A Restless Parallel
by Zeech
Summary: Vignette. Commodore Norrington gave Captain Jack Sparrow a days head start, and just might live to regret it.


**Authors Note:** This began as a drabble and turned into a vignette. It all came from a day of me sitting in Algebra and sort of realizing how Jack Sparrow and mah bebeh Norrington really aren't that different at all. It's a mirror effect, a result of comparing too personalities so different they become the faces of one another.

To shorten everything I came up with into the simplest terms: Norrington seems to be the side of Jack that will do what is right, the side that can distinguish the two. Jack is the side of Norrington that he's obviously repressing. A sense of unbalanced reality. An off-center whirlwind. You know, youth. ^_^   This isn't slash (oh don't cry. go read slash fics by people that could actually do them right), and if I made Gillette too annoying in your eyes, I apologize. He irked me a bit.  **Enjoy!**

--- --- --- 

**A Restless Parallel**

****

_how has it come to this?  you're leading a foxhunt. only a fox hunt._

"Sir, don't you want to be turning in?" The pitch of Gillette's voice halted Norrington's train of thought; the young man's tone was always a little too sure of itself. The commodore turned to his lieutenant, expression skeptical.

"Pardon?" He hadn't heard that last bit, with his own thoughts and the break of the water against the belly of the ship. 

"It's late, sir. Morning's only hours away."

"Yes, I know." 

"Perhaps the one days head start was more than he needed." Gillette said with a smart note, his pale brows jumping in amusement when the commodore regarded him with the slightest hint of a wry smile. 

_more than he needed. of course it was. you knew that when you let him drop off the cliffside. you knew that catching and caging Jack Sparrow would and could never be as satisfying as challenging him to a chase._

"I daresay, sir, that 'the last real pirate threat in the Caribbean' will be long gone before we tread her waters." Gillette continued with a touch of snitty over-confidence that made Norrington suddenly aware of an annoyance creeping up the back of his head. Gillette mistook the look in his stern blue eyes to be worry. He shrugged thoughtlessly. "I wouldn't lose sleep over it, sir. Sparrow is far too foolhardy to keep his luck afloat."

"Foolhardy. Of course." Norrington nodded, and turned back to frowning at the sails.

_foolhardy. rash. a side of yourself that hasn't come up for air in years. beneath that big hat, and the crisply pressed uniform you love so much is just an arrogant young man, an arrogant young commodore who only hates pirates because you sail by a code. and he sails by the stars._

The frown slowly changed into a rueful smile as his gaze shifted to the diamond-specked blackness that was the sky. Of course he hated Sparrow, there was little room for any reason not to. He murmured in response to himself, "And a compass that doesn't point north."

Gillette's face fell to quizzical. "Sir?"

_look at yourself in the mirror. try to recognize the same face you've had for thirty and three years._

"Amazing, the influence the blackguard has on decent sorts. Governor Swann, the blacksmith boy – Will Turner, and Elizabeth Swann. She might have married you, if it hadn't been for Sparrow's intervention with the blacksmith."

The ghost of a smile, if there had been any at all, faded on the stern face. _she might have married you. but she would not have been happy. you'd have clipped her wings._

"When you get your hands on Jack Sparrow, sir, I'll enjoy watching him swing from the gallows. If only just for that – "

_when you get your hands on Jack Sparrow - _

A drop of rain landed on his cheek and for a moment even his voice within his head had to quiet. The winds picked up, cool and sharp with the spray of the sea that mingled with the Caribbean heat. It moved over him as the air before a storm, the pungent smell of rain filling his lungs as thick as smoke, but refreshing as a sea breeze. Another droplet hit him, and slid along the curve of his cheek to trail down his throat. Then another, and another. The rain started to fall all around him, hard and heavy, but no clouds moved into formation to block out the stars. 

Norrington snorted upon feeling the weight of his clothing increase. It soaked up the cold rain water, and the material sagged on his erect stature. He kept his arms behind his back, but turned curiously when he heard Gillette moan something inaudible.

" – Splendid, this rain. I'd like to see Sparrow attempt to manage that broken down vessel of his in weather like this. It would be a good show, for amusement purposes – "

"Lieutenant Gillette."

"Sir."

"It's a little late to be speculating, don't you think?" Norrington's expressive dark brows lifted in polite disinterest. He gave the other man a quick look-over, as if just noticing he had been there all along. "And far too early to draw conclusions. You should spend more time at night sleeping." On that note, he flashed the dumbfounded young man a quick, humorless smile before his mouth flattened out to a subtle half-smirk. Norrington moved past Gillette, and the heavy drenched material of the Commodore's coat groaned loudly as it brushed his shoulder. 

_when I get my hands on Captain Sparrow I intend to shake the life out of him_

The dawn was four long hours away. Plenty of time to turn his mind off, and decide exactly what he would do with the Captain when again they would meet.

**~end~**


End file.
